


everywhere we've been, we've been leaving traces

by playedwright



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bill Denbrough, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Pining, Porn with Feelings, Top Mike Hanlon, also mike hanlon LIKES to kiss so there is a lot of that, and some plot as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24033334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playedwright/pseuds/playedwright
Summary: The funny thing is, when they first started sleeping together, Mike genuinely didn’t think that he’d be the one to end up with feelings.For God’s sake, he’s known Bill his whole life. If anyone was inclined to catch feelings when they weren’t supposed to, it was going to be Bill Denbrough—the guy who would have one barista smile at him and be convinced they were soulmates.This is just supposed to be a friends-with-benefits thing. Mike wasn't supposed to getfeelings.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 154





	everywhere we've been, we've been leaving traces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deadlight_s (scamsHan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scamsHan/gifts).



> everyone say thank you [lore](https://twitter.com/chernobrough). THANK YOU LORE. I HOPE YOU LOVE IT<3

The funny thing is, when they first started sleeping together, Mike genuinely didn’t think that he’d be the one to end up with feelings.

For God’s sake, he’s known Bill his whole life. If anyone was inclined to catch feelings when they weren’t supposed to, it was going to be Bill Denbrough—the guy who would have one barista smile at him and be convinced they were soulmates.

But Mike wakes up one day to bleary sunlight streaming through his curtains and Bill is still in his bed, fast asleep and _soft,_ and that’s where it starts _._ Brown hair splayed across Mike’s pillows, his soft fist pulling the sheets up to his chin. His other arm pinned beneath his torso and his body, lean and tight, curved on the right side of Mike’s bed like a parenthese. And Mike smiles to himself and feels glad that Bill is here. He closes his eyes again and lays his head back down and curls into the warmth of Bill in his bed before he realizes.

They’ve never had a sleepover before.

Mike’s eyes open in alarm.

Bill’s still fast asleep.

He climbs out of bed as quietly as he can, slips on his discarded briefs from yesterday, and pads his way across the floor then closes the bathroom door as quietly as he can. He sits down on the edge of his bathtub and looks at his reflection in the mirror, letting himself be aware of his heartbeat for a moment before he moves forward.

“Okay,” he says to himself quietly. “What’s the big deal?”

The big deal is, this isn’t a sleepover arrangement. This is two friends who are too busy to go out and meet people mutually agreeing to release some tension from time to time. Okay, often. _Okay,_ at least four times a week, recently, but in Mike’s defense, he has a _lot_ of tension. He’s got a difficult job. He carries a lot of stuff on his shoulders. Still, it’s not a sleepover arrangement. 

It’s just friends with benefits, which Mike _hates_ to call it, because it seems trivial. Something straight out of a romantic comedy. People in friends with benefits situations get feelings, and fall in love, and things get messy and there’s a big fall-out before one final Hail Mary kiss in the rain. And that’s not going to happen to Mike and Bill.

It’s not _supposed_ to happen for Mike and Bill.

“It’s just a sleepover,” Mike says to his reflection in the mirror. “People who have one night stands have sleepovers. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

He’s fine.

Mike nods to himself. He’s fine. It’s not like Bill’s gonna wake up and they’re gonna bump shoulders in the kitchen and share coy glances and make breakfast together. So Mike is fine, and Bill’s fine, and it doesn’t matter if they spend the night at one another’s place every now and then because they are _fine._

Mike stands and washes his hands before pulling the door open. He stops in his tracks when he realizes Bill is awake, sitting up with Mike’s sheets artfully covering his legs. When he stretches, Mike can see the pale curve of Bill’s ass from where the blanket shifts. His throat goes dry.

“You’re up,” Mike says.

“Barely,” Bill grumbles. He wipes tiredly at his eyes and huffs when an errant strand of hair falls across his forehead. “Time s’it?”

Mike glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Early.”

Bill scrubs at his face. Mike’s heart is pounding in his chest for a reason he can’t figure out. “Way too early,” Bill agrees. Mike thinks he’s talking to himself.

“You know, you’ve never spent the night before,” Mike comments. 

Bill looks at him, sleepy and surprised. His lips purse. Mike’s eyes unwillingly track the movement. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he hums. Then he lets out a small, easy laugh. “Sorry, Mike. Guess you wore me out pretty good.”

There’s a gorgeous smirk on Bill’s mouth that Mike wants to press his lips to. It’s irritatingly smug. “You always say that,” Mike says, like it’s nothing. Like his chest doesn’t feel tighter than normal even though he doesn’t know why. “When are you gonna return the favor?”

“Oooh,” Bill whines, hand over his heart in a dramatized gesture of hurt. Mike can’t help but grin at him. “Cut me where it hurts the most.”

“You make it easy,” Mike says. Bill makes it easy. Easy as breathing, as familiar a thing as Mike’s own reflection in the mirror. Bill shoots him a wink.

Mike means to look away, when Bill uncovers himself and throws his legs over the side of the bed to get up, but he’s sure Bill doesn’t mind the attention. Bill preens over being looked at, being admired. And god, does Mike _admire_ him. The thick muscle of his thigh, the jutting cut of his hip bones, the dip of his collarbone. Thin, long fingers—writer’s fingers, deft and clever and skilled—that flex when Bill bends and picks his pants up off the floor.

“Since I’m here, mind if I take over your kitchen and make breakfast before I go to work?” Bill asks. He stands up and slides back into his pants. Mike allows himself a minute to mourn the fully naked Bill in his bed.

“Yeah, man, of course,” Mike says. “You know where everything is.”

Bill smiles at him before bending down again and picking up Mike’s peach-colored button up he wore yesterday off the floor. “I’m borrowing this.”

And it will dwarf Bill, Mike knows it will, but Bill shrugs the shirt over his shoulders and neatly rolls up the sleeves, and _god,_ he’s a sight in Mike’s clothes, unbuttoned and pinker than his regular palette and grinning at Mike like he knows exactly what he’s doing. He puts a hand on Mike’s bare chest as he passes by and presses up on his tiptoes, just enough that he can kiss the underside of Mike’s jaw. “See something you like?” Bill asks.

“Looking for a morning delight?” Mike shoots back.

“Isn’t it afternoon delight?”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “If you want to wait, I suppose.”

Bill’s delighted laugh echoes around the room. “God, Mike, if I didn’t have to go into work this morning, I would jump you right now.”

Mike inhales sharply after Bill has left the room. He’s more affected than he expected to be, turned on just at the talk of it and a little bit punch-drunk on the idea of sleeping with Bill at a time of day that isn’t after they both get off of work. But still, Bill’s right. They’ve both got work, and—

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Mike calls out. He faintly hears Bill’s response from the kitchen before he closes the bathroom door behind him.

It’s his regular morning routine, made better by the fact he knows Bill is still here. Made hotter by the knowledge that Bill is in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, but still in an obscene state of undress. Mike finds himself rushing through his shower and his skincare and hair routines. For the first time since he can remember, he doesn’t care about the clothes he pulls out of his closet, knowing he’ll change before work anyway and mostly just eager to get out to the kitchen to Bill.

And god, _god,_ that tightness in his chest is back again, when he finally leaves the sanctuary of his bedroom and stumbles across Bill at his stovetop, flipping a fried egg and humming low under his breath. He’s opened the window next to Mike’s stove, letting in the gentle breeze. Coffee’s brewing in the pot, and as Mike approaches, toast pops out of the toaster. Bill turns to grab it and catches sight of Mike.

“That was fast,” he comments.

“What, like I’m gonna pass up one minute of seeing you half naked?” Mike asks. He feels bold in a way he so rarely feels. It’s an odd line they toe, flirting after sex, or before. Like neither of them are sure when they’ll cross the line.

Bill rolls his eyes. “I’m fully dressed.”

“Your shirt, _my_ shirt, is not buttoned up,” Mike tells him. He crosses into the kitchen and takes the toast out, placing it on the plates Bill had pulled from the counter. There’s sliced avocado in a bowl, and Mike places a few slices on each piece of toast. “Good thing, too. You’d drown in it.”

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s fun to see you get flustered,” Bill says easily. “Eggs are done. Wanna bring the plates over here?”

_Oh, I think I’m in love,_ Mike thinks fondly as he picks up the plates and closes the distance between them. Easy as breathing. He freezes before he makes it fully to the stove.

What the _hell?_

Like nothing is wrong, Bill places the eggs on top of the toast and leans over to turn off the stovetop. He moves around Mike, still frozen, to pour them both a cup of coffee. Mike’s still rooted in place when Bill takes a seat at the dining table and gently says, “Mikey? All good, man?”

Mike looks down at the plates, like he’s forgotten what he was doing, then up at Bill. Bill sits innocently, completely unaware of Mike’s impending meltdown, and that’s just the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

“Yeah, sorry,” Mike says. “Figured out a solution to a problem at work.”

Bill makes an affirmative sound as Mike sits down and slides him his plate. “Oh, the research grant problem you kept running into?”

God, Mike could _scream._ How cliché is it to develop feelings for your best friend? How cliché is it to develop feelings for a _fuck buddy?_

He can’t believe this started with a goddamn _sleepover._

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s not until later, when Bill rushes out the door in the same outfit he wore yesterday, pulling Mike into a hasty hug on his way out the door, that Mike allows himself to think about the gravity of the situation. The unfortunate reality that he is a grown man who has known his best friend for years and who has only _just_ discovered he has feelings for him.

He needs to talk to someone. He needs to—he needs to freak _out,_ he needs someone to tell him to be reasonable, he needs to remember all the reasons this was just a friends-helping-out friends situation. That list was provided to him in _great_ detail by Bill himself. It’s a bad idea, developing feelings for Bill. They’ve been friends forever, _forever,_ if something were meant to happen, wouldn’t it have already? Or is it not too late? Is it ever?

Mike needs to _talk_ to someone. He pulls his phone out and paces his kitchen and shoots off a text to Richie before he can think about it too hard.

**TO: Richie**

**[09:02]** please remind me that bill is 5’7”

**FROM: Richie**

**[09:02]** lol what

**TO: Richie**

**[09:03]** REMIND ME THAT BILL IS 5’7” SO I CAN CALM DOWN

**FROM: Richie**

**[09:04]** oh my little baby bird

 **[09:04]** oh mikey

 **[09:04]** is this it is it happening

**TO: Richie**

**[09:04]** what???

 **[09:05]** I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR ONE OF YOUR BITS RIGHT NOW, RICHIE

Mike’s phone starts ringing in his hand, and the screen lights up with Richie’s contact picture. Mike answers the call quickly.

“This isn’t a bit,” Richie says, even though he’s laughing like it is. “Mikey, Mikey, oh my sweet summer child, my angel of the morning. Tell me what is ailing that big and beautiful heart of yours that I love so dearly.”

“Richie,” Mike sighs.

Richie snorts around another giggle before he calms himself down. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll be serious. Micycle, please remember that our dearest friend Bill is only 5’7. Want to tell me why you need this reminder?”

“No,” Mike says, lying through his teeth. His eyes catch on a picture of him and Bill pinned up on the fridge. He exhales sharply and admits, “Maybe.”

Over the line, Richie’s voice is gentle in a way it so rarely is as he says, “What’s up, buddy?”

“I…” Mike starts, but it feels wrong. Every way he can think to phrase it feels juvenile. He _has feelings_ for Bill? He’s got a crush? Are they in the eighth grade? No, it feels stronger than that. More meaningful. Is there a word for finding your way to feelings that have been inevitable, destined for you ever since the day you met this person?

“Spit it out,” Richie says kindly.

“Shut up, Richie,” laughs Mike. It’s the push he needed, though. All at once, in one quick rush of breath, Mike admits in a low voice, “I think I have feelings for Bill.”

Richie laughs, like it’s the last thing he’d expected Mike to say. “Yeah, and I think I’m in love with Eddie.”

Mike startles. “That’s… Richie, that’s not a surprise. We _know_ that. Aren’t you guys, like in proposal talks?”

There’s a long pause over the line for a minute, long enough that Mike actually pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure he hasn’t lost connection. Then there’s a soft inhale and Richie’s voice, gentle once again, saying, “Mikey, are you telling me that your feelings for Bill _are_ a surprise?”

Mike blinks. “Yes?”

“Buddy, no,” Richie sighs. “Oh my god. You know, I was wondering how a universe could exist where me and Eds got our shit together before you and Bill, but this makes sense. You didn’t even _know._ Oh my god, is this how Stanley felt? I owe him a fruit basket.”

“What are you talking about?” Mike asks. “ _Richie_.”

There’s a thumping noise on the other side of the call and Richie swears lowly under his breath, “Who put that chair there?” then another sigh as he settles down again. “Mike, buddy, I love you with my whole heart, but even I picked up on the fact that you and Big Bill don’t behave strictly platonic and I’m the densest fucking person on the planet. Literally. Ask Eddie. He made a list of all the moves he tried to make before I realized what was going on.”

“You knew,” Mike repeats, horrified. He sits down heavy in a chair at his table. In the seat across from him, Bill’s unfinished coffee cup sits there and taunts him. Mike feels a pang in his chest.

“I think everyone knows but you and Bill,” Richie confirms. “But, hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. Bill acts like he’s so damn smart, but we all know he’s a himbo on a good day. He probably doesn’t realize it, either. And now that you know, you can, like… I don’t know. Make a move.”

Mike exhales sharply. He squeezes his eyes shut. All or nothing, he decides. “We’ve been sleeping together.”

“ _What?_ ” Richie yelps.

“Yep,” Mike says. He feels like a child as he pops the ‘p’, but he likes the way it lessens the knot in his chest. “We have a whole friends with benefits arrangement. It’s been going on since… December?”

Richie laughs breathlessly. “December.”

“Give or take.”

“Mike,” Richie sighs. It gives Mike whiplash, how unlike Richie the sound is coming from his mouth. “Mikey, it’s May.”

Mike blinks slowly. He pulls his phone away from his ear and puts it on speakerphone before setting it down on his kitchen table and covering his face with his hands. “It sure is,” he agrees. It comes out muffled.

“You’ve been sleeping with Bill for five months, give or take,” Richie allows, “and you _just_ realized you have feelings for him?”

Mike groans. “I really thought it was normal that I liked kissing him so much.”

“ _Mike_ —” Richie groans.

“I know, I know!” Mike says quickly. “Richie, I, I… I _know._ It’s just—I’ve always liked kissing! It’s hot! I enjoy it. Some people are good kissers. Bill is a _really_ good kisser. And I have fun with him, I thought. I… I thought that’s all it was, I thought it was fun, but now I don’t just want to kiss him for fun I want to kiss him before he leaves my apartment to go to work.”

“Mike,” Richie says. His voice is carefully neutral. “What do you mean when he leaves your apartment to go to work?”

Mike blanches.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Does he spend the _night_ when you guys have sex?” Richie asks. His voice crawls impossibly high in his incredulity. “Oh my fucking god, this _has_ to be worse than what Eddie and I were like. _Michael,_ he spends the night?!”

Mike weighs his options. “Not usually,” he finally admits.

“Not usually,” Richie huffs. “God, this is unbearable. Mike, how dare you put me in this situation. I’m not meant to be the emotionally competent one. You owe me a _huge_ favor for this. Oh my god. Mike. Mikey. I think you and Bill are in a relationship and you just did not know it.”

“I would _know_ ,” Mike says defensively.

“Would you?” Richie interrupts. Mike’s mouth snaps shut. “Would you know, Michael? Would you be aware of it, Mr. I just realized today I have feelings for my childhood best friend that I’ve been secretly boning for five months?”

Mike hates that Richie has a point. He hates _every_ time Richie has a point, but he feels like he’s allowed to be extra bitter about this point. “Maybe I wouldn’t realize it,” he admits. “But I would still like the benefit of the doubt.”

“Oh, I’ll give you that, Mikey, all you gotta do is ask,” Richie says. His voice lilts up as he somehow manages to turn even that into an innuendo.

“Beep, beep,” Mike sighs.

Richie laughs. “You’re right, you’re right, I’ll back off. Shouldn’t flirt with a guy who is soon to be off the market, right?”

Mike turns the thought over in his head. _Off the market._ He knows Richie said it to tease him, in the kindest way Richie knows how to, but something about it sticks to the walls of Mike’s brain. He likes the way it makes his heart race.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he allows. “I might very well be after I tell Bill.”

Richie’s laughter cuts off. “After you—what?”

“After I tell Bill,” Mike continues. He stands up, feeling invigorated by his decision, and grabs Bill’s unfinished coffee mug and the plate he left on the table and puts it in the sink to rinse out. He feels better, now. He’s got a goal.

“You’re going to _tell_ him?” Richie asks. “Just like that?”

“What else would I do?” Mike asks. He bends down and picks up Bill’s discarded jacket from where it lays in a pile on the floor. God, it’s obvious now, how much Bill has inserted himself into Mike’s life like it’s as easy as breathing. The traces of him are everywhere.

“Um, _yearn_ on your own for a while, like a normal person?” Richie says. “Do you think I told Eddie the second I realized I had feelings for him?”

Mike smirks. “I think you and Eddie would have saved each other some heartache and gotten together a long time ago, if you had done that. Don’t you want that? More time with the person you have feelings for?”

Richie’s voice goes soft on the other line. “I have the future with him,” he admits quietly. “I’m grateful for that.”

“See, that’s what I mean!” Mike says excitedly. He’s pacing the floor now. “Why waste another second, you know? I want the future. I think I deserve a chance for the future.”

“Of course you do, Mikey,” Richie agrees. His voice is still gentle. Mike knows Richie well enough to know that Richie is likely a little teary-eyed right now. “I’ve been saying that for years, you big lug.”

Mike grins. “Good looking out, buddy.”

“Hey,” Richie says suddenly. “You deserve this, bud. Can’t think of anyone else who deserves it more than you.”

“Aw, Rich,” Mike teases. “I think that’s more sincerity than you’ve shown anyone all year.”

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone or I’ll have to run away and change my identity,” Richie deadpans. “Go get your man, Micycle. Pocket sized boyfriend.”

“Stop,” Mike sighs.

“Hold him in your big, big hands, Mikey!” Richie crows. Mike hangs up with him while he’s cackling with laughter.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The day passes by, agonizing slow in a way it normally only is when he knows he’s spending the night with Bill. But it’s a different kind of energy that thrums through his body and keeps him feeling electric all day. He feels insane with the way he smiles at every student who comes into the research lab, a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

In some miraculous twist of fate or pure dumb luck, it’s his day with shorter office hours, and he’s locking up his office and out the door the second the hand reachings the twelve on the clock. He’s thrumming, almost skipping with excitable energy. Nervous in a way he thinks he shouldn’t be.

Bill responds with enthusiasm at Mike’s request to come over tonight, lamenting over text about how his meeting with his show producers got moved to another time. It’s a rare occasion that they’re both off this early, despite it being just past three in the afternoon, but Mike redirects himself on his way home and heads to Bill’s apartment without a second thought.

His body is humming with anticipation as he parks his car in front of Bill’s apartment and collects himself to go inside. Mike has to stop himself from skipping up the stairs. It feels overkill. The outcome is the same no matter how fast he gets there. He’s telling Bill the truth about his feelings.

Mike takes another minute, another breath, another roll of his shoulders, as he stands in front of Bill’s door. Another breath so he can be certain. So he can relish in the excitement for just another exhale.

He raises his hand to knock, but his knuckles barely hit the door once before it swings open. Bill grabs a handful of Mike’s shirt and pulls him forward, into the apartment stumbling, and somehow the door closes and Mike is backed up against the door. Mike has nine inches of height on Bill, but that’s never stopped Bill when he’s like this. He’s got a fistful of Mike’s shirt still and his other hand goes to the back of Mike’s neck so he can tug Mike down. His kiss is messy, not much more than a desperate and horny press of mouth to mouth, frantic in Mike’s favorite way. Bill always kisses like it’s his purpose to completely take Mike apart. His tongue traces the seam of Mike’s lips before it presses hot and flush against Mike’s bottom lip.

Mike slides his hands into the back pockets of Bill’s jeans, cupping handfuls of Bill’s ass and using it as leverage to press their bodies closer together. Bill’s groan reverberates as Mike allows the kiss to deepen, opening his lips and running his tongue along Bill’s. He meant it earlier, when he said he enjoyed kissing, and Bill knows what he’s doing. Bill knows the right way to suck Mike’s tongue into his mouth. He knows when it’s best to tug Mike’s lip between his teeth in a small bite. He’s figured out that the best time to rock his lips up against Mike’s is whenever he wants Mike’s mouth to drop open in a small, pleasured _ah-ah_ sound, and he knows that following up with his tongue pressed against the roof of Mike’s mouth is the fastest way to get Mike to pick him up and carry him to couch or bed or counter or any surface stable enough to hold them both.

Bill’s legs wrap around Mike’s hips once he’s lifted, and pressed together like this, Mike can feel the undeniable press of Bill’s hardening dick against his stomach. The angle of the kiss changes, with Bill being raised like this, but the intensity of it doesn’t lessen. Bill likes it, kissing Mike from this angle, even if he’d never say it. Mike carries him to the kitchen counter and slides Bill onto it with ease. Bill’s legs stay twined around Mike, keeping him firmly where he is. As if he’d ever want to go anywhere else.

“Been thinking about this all day,” Bill admits, when Mike breaks their kiss so he can press a trail of burning kiss after kiss along Bill’s neck. “Ever since—shit, _shit,_ Mike, _yeah_ —ever since. Fucking afternoon delight.”

Mike grins, and he’s pressed against Bill’s collarbone, so he knows Bill can feel it. “Been driving you wild since this morning, huh?” he asks. His voice is husky, properly kiss-fucked. Rough in a way Mike never gets enough of.

“You always drive me wild,” Bill gasps. He rocks forward, seeking friction even with space between them. “Think about you. Think about _this… constantly._ All the time. Want you all the time—”

“Bill,” Mike groans. He lifts his head and Bill shifts, ready to meet him in the middle with another kiss, but Mike doesn’t let him. He rests his forehead against Bill’s and closes his eyes. They’re both breathing heavy. “I wanted to. I wanted to talk to you about something, that’s. That’s why I came over.”

Bill startles away. “Fuck,” he breathes out. His legs drop and he pushes at Mike’s shoulders gently, separating the both of them. His face is flushed, pupils blown wide. His hair is a mess despite the fact Mike hasn’t even put his hands in it yet. “God, _Jesus,_ I’m. I’m so s-s-s. _Sorry,_ I thought. I thought—”

“Hey, hey,” Mike says quickly. He puts his hand on Bill’s cheek and holds him steady. “Don’t be sorry. I want that, too. Just. I think we need to talk first.”

Bill’s eyes search his, likely looking for any hint as to what Mike is thinking. Eventually he nods, and Mike drops his hand. Bill folds in on himself, embarrassed in a way he so rarely is. Mike can’t stand to see it. He places both of his hands on Bill’s thighs and squeezes reassuringly.

“I realized something today,” Mike starts. His heart is pounding in his chest. He’s not sure how much of it is attested to their heavy makeout session just minutes before and how much of it is out of anticipation for whatever comes next. “When we started this, it wasn’t… it was just an arrangement. Friends helping out friends. It’s not like that anymore.”

Bill pales. “Mike, I-I—I’m _sorry,_ I s-s-swear.”

Mike furrows his brow. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“You’re right,” Bill admits. He lifts both of his hands and covers his face. “It’s not like that anymore! Feelings got in the way, and that’s my fault, I… I should have tried harder to. To keep myself in check, to r-r- _remind_ myself what. What we were doing, I’m s-sorry, Mikey—”

“Bill,” Mike interrupts. “Hey, what?”

Bill drops his hands. “I think I’m in love with you,” he blurts out.

Mike startles. There’s a part of him that can’t believe Bill _beat him to it._ The rest of him though, god, the _rest of him_ is so overwhelmingly _glad,_ it’s bursting out of him. He’s surprised he isn’t glowing.

“I know I’m in love with you,” Mike admits.

The startled, pleased grin that splits Bill’s face is better than anything else Mike’s ever seen. More beautiful than all of them combined. He lunges forward and Mike is expecting a kiss but Bill’s arms twine around his shoulders and press them flush together and it’s good, it’s _good,_ this is the man he’s in love with. How could he have gone so long without realizing? How could he have ever thought they weren’t destined to end up here?

Bill’s shaking against him, and Mike has a moment of panic before Bill shifts a little bit and his laughter rings clear through the air. He clings to the muscles of Mike’s back and laughs, carefree. Mike’s favorite sound in the universe.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Bill says. “Does that mean we can keep doing what we’ve been doing?”

Mike laughs, bright and surprised. “I think it means that what we’ve been doing is just gonna get _better,_ man.”

“Promises, promises,” Bill murmurs. He moves his hands until he’s cradling Mike’s face, and gently he presses their lips together. It’s the kind of kiss Mike would expect after a love confession like that. A kiss that’s full of intent. Mike wraps his arms around Bill’s hips and tugs him closer, impossibly closer, pressing their bodies flush together. He gasps against Bill’s mouth when Bill rocks forward, teasingly at first, then again, then again.

Mike feels feverish in a way he can’t describe, a heat that is eating him up from the inside out. He can’t get close enough to Bill, can’t touch enough of his skin, can’t kiss him hard enough. He wants more, _more,_ he wants everything, _god,_ he wants—

“Fuck, Mikey,” Bill groans out. His head tips back, exposing the tantalizing expanse of his neck, and Mike shifts to kiss him there without even thinking about. “Fuck, _fuck._ Mike, fuck me, please, fuck—”

“You want that?” Mike pants out. He sucks a patch of Bill’s skin between his teeth then soothes the mark with a swipe of his tongue. Bill whimpers as Mike moves to a higher spot on his neck. “You want me to fuck you like I did last night?”

“Y- _yes_ ,” Bill gasps. His hands tighten against Mike’s shoulder blades. “I’m still—I’m still loose. Wouldn’t take much to, to. To get me prepped.”

“Fuck,” Mike breathes out. He lifts his head and catches Mike’s eye. “You’re still loose?”

Bill’s skin is deliciously pink, a hot flush that is splotchy on his cheeks and trails down his neck and below his shirt. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you at work,” Bill admits. “Drive me… you drive me _wild,_ Mikey. I… I had to walk away from the desk for a few minutes.”

Mike sucks in a sharp breath.

“Thought about you while I fucked myself with my fingers in the bathroom,” Bill admits. “Imagined it was you inside of me. Stretching me, filling me out. You always fill me so good—”

Mike growls, a low sound that tears out of him, and he feels frantic as he lifts Bill up off the counter once again. Bill’s legs wrap around Mike’s hips. The couch is closer, and they’ve fucked on it before, but Bill just told him that he’s in _love_ with him, and Mike feels—he _feels_ —

Bill lets out a startled, thrilled gasp as Mike carries him into his bedroom, half crashing into a wall in his hurry to get there. Bill’s laughter is bright and addictive in his ear. Mike swallows that same laughter in a second, after he drops Bill onto the bed and crawls on top of him, thighs on either side of Bill’s torso, covering him fully and kissing him desperately. Bill bucks his hips up into it, and even with layers between them Mike can feel how hard Bill is, straining against his jeans.

“You’re so sexy,” Mike says. He uses one hand to press on Bill’s hip, pinning him into the mattress. Bill whimpers as Mike sits back. With his free hand, Mike traces a finger up Bill’s torso before flicking a button of his shirt open. “You drive me wild.”

“Mike,” Bill groans. He tries to rock his hips up again, desperate for friction. Mike presses down harder. He undoes another two of Bill’s buttons.

“Can’t believe you fucked yourself on your fingers while you were at work,” Mike grits out. “Do you even understand what that does to me? _Should_ have been me, inside of you. Filling you out. You want that, don’t you?”

Bill’s breathy gasps fill the air. His hand smacks against the mattress and he grabs a fistful of the sheets. “Y-y-y- _yes_ ,” he insists.

Mike makes quick work of the rest of Bill’s shirt, but he doesn’t stop there. In the same deft, easy motions, he undoes the fly of Bill’s jeans and unzips them. “I love you,” Mike says honestly. Something about the way Bill looks right now—spread out across his bed, half undressed, chest heaving with want, cock straining against the undone seam of his pants—makes Mike feel like he’s on fire. Like the love inside of him is going to eat him alive unless he says it again and again. “I love you. I love you.”

“I love you,” Bill gasps out. “So much, Mike, _god,_ I don’t—”

“Take your shirt off,” Mike instructs. He uses his grip on Bill’s hip to lift him enough that he can slide both Bill’s pants and underwear off in one quick movement. He gets his hand on Bill’s dick right after, certain he might die in minutes if he doesn’t get to touch it. Bill lets out a breathy, wrecked moan, forcing himself up on his elbows so he can shrug out of his shirt. “There you go, baby. How do you want it?”

When Bill flushes, his entire body turns pink, blotchy splashes down his chest and his neck and his cheek. Mike catches Bill’s gaze. He’s certain there’s nothing but sincerity and love in his expression, and he hopes that it helps soothe Bill, helps make him feel less anxious. He pumps his hand along Bill’s dick once, twice, three times, until Bill stutters out another breathless gasp, and that’s what it takes for Bill to choke out, “Want you in me. I want you to fuck me, Mikey, _please_.”

Mike grins and leans forward, pressing a kiss to Bill’s bare hipbone and letting his cheek brush against Bill’s dick as he sits back up again. Bill moans.

“I love you,” Mike says again, when he sits back and pulls his own shirt off. Bill whimpers beneath him, hands twitching against the mattress. “I love you like this, too. You’re so _beautiful,_ Bill, like this. Spread out across the bed. You’re aching for it, look at you.”

Bill nods desperately.

Mike climbs off the bed for long enough to tug off his pants and his underwear and his socks. Bill’s eyes are dark and full of want as Mike crawls back into bed again. 

The time between Mike reaching over the both of them to pull the lube out of Bill’s nightstand to pressing his third finger into Bill easily, fucking into him gently, seems to pass by in the blink of an eye. Bill wasn’t joking when he said he was loose, and even now with three of Mike’s digits pumping inside of him and curling against his prostate with every other brush, he yelps and cries out and insists it’s not enough. Bill like this is a _sight,_ it always has been, but it’s different now. Greater, somehow. With the knowledge that Mike’s in love with him and that Bill loves him back.

“Fuck, _fuck,_ Mike!” Bill cries out, with Mike’s fingers deep inside of him. Mike brushes against his prostate again, and when Bill shouts his name again, he wraps his other hand around the base of Bill’s dick and holds him in place.

“So good for me,” Mike tells him. His own dick is throbbing, harder than he can ever remember being. He pulls his fingers out almost fully before pushing back in. Bill twitches against him. “You’re so good, Bill, look at you. So good.”

Bill is shaking, writhing in the bed, so turned on that precum leaks from him. Mike swipes his thumb along the head of Bill’s dick and spreads the precum along Bill’s length. “Please, Mike, fuck me,” Bill chokes.

“You sure you’re ready?” Mike asks gently. He pumps his fingers in and out one more time.

“God, _yes,_ yes, just—” Bill gasps. “I fucking _need you,_ please—”

And, really, that’s all it takes. Bill’s words shock through him like an electric current, exposing every nerve and lighting him on fire. Mike has been wanted before, he has even been loved before, but it has never been like this. It will _never_ be like this, not with anyone else.

“I love you,” Mike breathes. He pulls his hand out and shivers when Bill whines at the loss of it. It only takes a minute, truthfully, from that to Mike rolling on a condom to Mike situating himself behind Bill and lining himself up with Bill’s hole, but it feels like too long. Feels like Mike has been dying without this, like he’s going to spend every day _wanting_ this, until the day he dies. Bill ruts backwards against him, just as desperate as Mike feels.

Mike moves in slowly. Even stretched out properly, Bill is tight around him, warm, and Mike’s vision whites out. His hands are on Bill’s hips, rubbing reassuring circles as he fills him up slowly, inch by maddening inch. Bill is gasping and whining for it, needy in a way Mike can’t get enough of. When Mike bottoms out, they both stay where they are, panting and sweaty.

“I love you,” Bill breathes. The words seem to fall out of his mouth, uncontrollable. Like the idea of being split by Mike’s dick and not saying _I love you_ right now is unimaginable. “God, Mike, Mike, I… I love you, I love you inside me, I—”

“Bill,” Mike grunts. In a movement that’s as agonizing for him as it is for Bill, he starts to pull out. Bill groans, uninhibited.

“More,” Bill begs. “Want to feel you. I want you to f— _fuck_ me, Mike,” Bill begs.

Mike pistons his hips forward roughly, and Bill’s startled, pleasured gasp fills the air. Bill’s still gasping when he starts to thrust into him in earnest.

The heat of Bill is intoxicating, as is the way his moans get more and more desperate the harder that Mike fucks into him. It’s hot, this fever inside of him, the love he feels so deeply it’s rewriting every fiber in his being, this need to make Bill feel so good that he never forgets how much Mike loves him. Every snap of his hips, every echoing slap of skin against skin, every twitchy flex of Bill’s fist against the sheets, it’s all too much. Sex with Bill has always been hot, but now it’s almost unbearable. Perfect, Mike thinks. Like they were made for this.

“Mike,” Bill gasps out, after Mike pulls out almost entirely and fucks into him hard. Their angle shifts, just barely, but it’s enough that Mike can brush against Bill’s prostate. Bill shouts out his name, shouts out expletives, shouts out declarations of love, and it’s hot and it’s romantic all at once.

“I’m close,” Mike admits, like he hasn’t been on edge since he bottomed out. He stutters around a gasp when Bill rocks backwards and meets his thrust.

“C’mon, Mike,” Bill pants. He hisses when Mike reaches forward and wraps a hand around his cock. “Fuck, fuck, if you do that, I’m gonna come, too.”

“Good,” Mike pants. “Wanna—wanna see you. You’re so beautiful.”

Bill moans around a breathy cry, fucking backwards on Mike’s dick and forward into the curve of Mike’s hand. Mike sets a rhythm, the way he knows Bill likes, pounding into him and pumping his cock at the same time. Bill’s breaths start to come in short little gasps, frantic and desperate, the way he does before he’s about to come, and Mike is right on the edge with him. He tightens his grip and runs his thumb along the head, coating it in precum again and relishing in the way it makes Bill cry out. A litany of gasping noises intertwined with Mike’s name starts to fall from Bill’s mouth, and after one stutter of his hips rocking back, he comes messily into Mike’s hand.

Mike works him through it slowly, coaxing Bill through the high of his orgasm, pumping his hand around Bill’s cock a few more times the way he knows Bill likes, until Bill starts to go boneless beneath him. Mike’s close, too, another thrust or two from blowing his own load, and as Bill is coming down from his own high, he fucks into Bill a few more times before spilling over himself. He drops his head onto Bill’s shoulder as he rides the intensity of his own orgasm, high off of it in a way he’s only felt when he’s slept with Bill. They stay like that for a moment, to catch their breath, for their visions to clear, before Mike pulls out fully and forces himself up. Bill is boneless in his bed, properly fucked out and dazed and happy in a way Mike wants to sear into his memory. He smiles tiredly when Mike returns with a wet rag, wiping them both down and disposing of the used condom.

They don’t have sleepovers, or, at least, they’ve only had one once, but it feels like something they’ve done a thousand times when Mike crawls into bed one last time and curls himself against Bill. His hand rests above Bill’s heart. He can feel the steady beat of it.

“I love you,” he murmurs into Bill’s shoulder blade.

“Love you,” Bill says lazily. It’s the middle of the afternoon, still, and eventually they’ll have to get up and eat dinner. Eventually they’ll have to leave and enter the real world again. But Mike thinks, as he drifts in and out of consciousness, that a little nap never hurt anyone. “Hey, Mikey?”

Mike hums in response.

Bill’s voice is small and sleepy as he asks, “Will you stay the night tonight?”

“Oh,” Mike breathes out. He ducks his face into Bill’s shoulder so Bill can feel the way he grins. “A sleepover?”

There’s a smile in Bill’s voice too as he agrees, “Yeah, if that’s alright with you.”

And what else can Mike do but press a kiss to Bill’s shoulder to agree?

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](https://rchtoziers.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/SPACERICHlE) if you want to come say hello!


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